


jeanmarco week 2014

by Rag



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Candles, Cisgender, F/M, Fluff, Intersex Character, M/M, Other, PWP, Sex Toys, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Waxplay, size fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 16:11:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3140573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rag/pseuds/Rag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>collection of ficlets from jeanmarco week 2014, check chapter notes for info!<br/>(ratings from teen to explicit)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gravity

**Author's Note:**

> rating: teen  
> plot: freshman adventures in flirting. for jeanmarco week, 'zero gravity'

Jean is late to his first class. He completely overestimated the bus system, and underestimated the distance from the stop to Hark Hall, and by the time he walks into BIO 1000, the class is divided into several large groups. Jean almost leaves, before the professor, a short, chubby, ultra-zealous blonde woman, makes excited eye contact.

“Hey! Bio 1000?”

“Yeah,” he says. He isn’t sure if he’s going to be reprimanded. 

“Great! Here’s this-“ she hands him a stapled packet, “and we’ve just gotten into groups, so go join one and introduce yourself! We’re talking about gravity.” She waves him off and goes back to her laptop at the front of the class.

Jean nods dumbly and starts looking around. He finds an empty seat in the middle of the class, where a group of four students are making stilted conversation. They all stop and stare at him as he sits down. Jean wants to melt into the ground.

“Hey,” a guy says before Jean can say anything, “she just told us to talk about what we already know about gravity.” He smiles, straight white teeth framed by thick, lopsided lips, and Jean hopes to God his blush isn’t going to act up, because something about the look on his face is setting Jean’s gaydar to fever pitch.

“Oh, okay,” he says. He doesn’t remember what else he was going to say.

The guy waits a beat. “So?”

“What?”

“What do you know about gravity?”

Jean definitely feels the blush kick in.

“Oh. Right. Uh, pulls stuff down?”

“Mm,” says the girl to Jean’s right.

“Yeah, I couldn’t think of much either. I’ve never given it much thought, you know?” the cute guy says, looking at only Jean.

Jean smiles back. “Yeah.”

Jean wonders why none of the other members are chiming in, until he sees that the girl is on her phone, and the guy across from him is fixed on his laptop screen. He doesn’t figure anyone would be terribly offended if he went off topic.

“Are you a freshman?” Jean asks, forgetting that he’s in a freshman orientation course until the words leave his mouth.

The guy’s smile gets more relaxed. “Yeah. Are you?”

Is he flirting with him? Jean’s experience with guys has been effectively nothing so far, and what few flirting excursions he’d attempted with girls had been so stunted and mangled he had to assume they hadn’t given him any indicators of what successful wooing looked like. This guy is cute, and smiling. Smiling was part of flirting, right? And eye contact, which was happening. There had to be more to it, though, or Jean would have thought every cashier and old lady on the street was flirting with him.

“Yeah,” Jean manages to say with through the thought-flurry.

“I’m Marco, by the way.”

“Jean.”

“What dorm are you in?”

“Garlin, you?”

“Oh my god, I live-“

“Alright! Everyone all gravity-ed out?” The professor calls out, and the room’s chatter quickly dies out. Marco’s mouth hangs open for a second before closing, and they both reluctantly turn back to face the front. Jean’s a little disappointed, but hopefully the 20 minutes wouldn’t totally kill the vibe they had going. 

The professor continues. “What did you guys come up with?” No one raises their hands, but it doesn’t deter her. “C’mon, anyone! Just shout it out!”

“Doesn’t exist in space?”

“Okay! Good! Not technically true, but that’s not important! What else?”

“Holds things down,” someone in the back says.

“Good! What else?”

A few more people shout things out, and the professor writes them all on the board in chalk.

“Anyone know the definition?”

No one volunteers.

“Gravity is the force of attraction that draws two objects with mass together. We tend to think that gravity pulls things down, but in reality, the objects are coming together. Speeds and force differ depending on mass, distance, and a whole bunch of stuff we won’t have time to get into, but ultimately, the both objects are drawn to each other.” 

Jean tries very hard to concentrate on the lecture, instead of counting down the minutes to the bell.

The professor clicks to the next slide and the screen is jammed with numbers theorems. She tells them something about how much humans know about gravity, but all they need to know for the test is the basic definition, because the course is really designed to help them find a field of focus. 

Finally, the bell rings. Jean turns to Marco’s seat as he gets up. Marco’s putting his books in his bag, which- thank every god in heaven- is adorned with a rainbow button. Even if he’s an ally, he’s not going to be offended if Jean asked him out. Which he’s going to do. Now. Soon. Maybe.

“Hey,” Jean says, “so- you- would you- do you want to hang out?”

That was awful. He should have practiced in his head.

Marco grins like he’s trying to hold back a laugh and gets up.

“Yeah. I live in Tyril, it’s a block away from you. Can I give you my number? We should get coffee, I found this great place,” he says casually as they head into the hallway together.

God, he’s smooth. Jean is jealous and maybe a little turned on.

Jean pulls out his phone. “Yeah- what’s your-“

Marco interrupts. “I keep it turned off for class. Can I write it on your hand instead?” 

Jean’s eyes widen, ho-lee shit.

Marco’s easy posture stiffens and he looks worried. “Sorry, did that cross a line? I didn’t mean-“

“No- it’s fine, I mean, it’s good- here-“ he offers up his palm before he can ramble himself into a corner.

Marco relaxes, grins, and takes Jean’s hand.

“Cold hands,” Marco says. The pen drags gently up and down Jean’s skin, soft and ticklish contrasting with Marco’s warm palm and fingertips. Jean knows what’s coming, but it doesn’t make the flutter in his chest any less palpable when Marco continues, “Warm heart?”

“You be the judge,” he answers before he can overthink it.

Marco’s smile gets a little shy and he actually blushes.

Jean might be melting.

“I’m free after 4. 4:30 at Café Pria okay?” Marco asks. He lets go of Jean’s hand.

“Yeah. See you there,” Jean says. He feels like he’s smiling like a jackass, but subtlety was never his thing.

“Good. Cool. Make sure you text me before that rubs off,” Marco says.

Jean only allows himself one cursory glance at Marco’s ass as he walks away. Then he heads off to his next class, punching Marco’s number in his phone as he steps outside.


	2. Olympus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> words: 1.5k  
> rating: explicit  
> plot: jean/marco size fetish. for jeanmarco week, 'olympus'  
> other: jean is instersex, marco is a trans man. overstimulation. established relationship

Jean had a shit day.  He woke up at ass-o-clock in the morning to study for an 8AM midterm, worked barista during what had to be the busiest lunch shift of his life, and missed his bus by a minute and had to wait another twenty in the drizzling rain.  He was cold, tired, and more than anything was looking forward to crashing on the couch for the next twelve hours, until he saw the package in front of his door.

He knows what it is before he even picks it up.  He tries not to grin too hard until he’s inside, then cuts it open with three quick swipes of his key.

“CAN YOU MOUNT OLYMPUS?” the package screams in big, gaudy bubble letters.  A naked woman gasps in the backdrop, photoshopped to gape at the giant rubber cock.

>You’ll never guess what came in the mail

< more baptist comics?

>Not quite

>Are you at work?

< yeah why?

>Remember what we ordered last week?

< ?

>Olympus

< OH

>Yeah, so, that. It’s giant.

Marco doesn’t respond right away, so Jean gets to work cutting open the plastic until his phone buzzes.

< are you still interested in using the program?

So, his boss is nearby.

>Yeah.  I’ll  get started on the precursory calculations as soon as my laptop boots up, but you’ll have to show me how to run the final product.

He grins as he sees the responding bubble pop up and disappear several times before one finally goes through.

<ok

<see you soon

Jean laughs and locks his phone.  He’s got some work cut out for him before Marco gets back.

-

Every time Marco starts to get a good rhythm going with his code, his mind flashes an image of what Jean must be doing to himself.

Slowly working their 9” in and out of his pussy.  Dripping lube and wet on the bedsheets.  Running a wet fingertip down his cock, squirting more lube on the dildo, gasping quietly.  His hips arch on a good, deep thrust, and he moans Marco’s name-

And the clicking of Marco’s boss’ footsteps in the hallway pulls him back to reality, again.

He forces out another line and checks the clock.

An hour and fifteen minutes.  If he hammers through the next few pages, he can probably leave early.

He can do this.

-

When Marco comes home, Jean is still on the couch.  Watching Friends.

Confusion is clear on Marco’s face.  “Are you- I thought you-“  He stops when he looks down.  “No.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Jean tries, as a tinny, artificial audience guffaws behind him.  He scrambles for the remote, and the dildo that was honestly just keeping him open slides out of his crotch and flops on the floor with a disgusting squelch. 

Marco watches it bounce once, twice before rolling away, then buckles over laughing.  “Are you- are you serious?”

“You were early, I was-”

“Are you fucking- you were jerking off- to a laugh track-“

“Baby,” Jean whines.

Marco takes a deep breath and forces himself to stop.  He looks like anything might set him off giggling again.

“You know, I kept thinking you were-“

“I haven’t come yet.”

The smirk on Marco’s face vanishes,  _thank god._

“Really?” he asks quietly.  He sits on the couch and runs his fingertips down Jean’s thighs.  “You’re so wet.”

“Saving it for you,” Jean says breathlessly.

Trailing his fingers in his slick, Marco kisses up Jean’s neck up to his ear.

“And Phoebe?” he whispers.

“ _Marco_.”

“Yeah, yeah.  I’m sorry.  Lemme wash my hands first, okay?”

He presses a lingering kiss to Jean’s skin before he gets up, and Jean finds it impossible to be annoyed.

Jean takes the lube and walks his gross, wet, cold legs into the bedroom.  Marco comes in not a minute later, naked.  He wastes no time straddling Jean, his body warming the little chill in his skin.

He kisses him with a little more fire than normal.  His lips swell harder and Jean can feel the anticipation in his hands and the gentle rock of his hips.

 “ _Fuck,_  Jean, you’re  _so_ wet _-“_

Marco starts grinding down and they both groan.  Jean’s been edging himself for too long, he already wants to lock his legs around Marco’s waist and hump him into Friday.

“God, you’re eager,” Jean teases between gasps.

“You knew what you were doing-  _fuck_ , you know what you do to me-“

Marco bites at the crook of Jean’s neck, sending sweet, shocking pain through his core, and he can’t bear the thought of holding back any more.  He grinds up as hard and fast as his hips will let him, but it’s not enough.

“Fuck me, Marco, come on, fuck-“

Marco steadies himself with one hand against the bed, and starts snapping his hips hard and fast,  _exactly_  what he needs.  Jean digs his nails into Marco’s back.  He knows he’s holding back, making sure Jean comes first. 

Jean grabs Marco by the hair and he moans so sweet Jean almost comes before their lips meet, but it’s the sloppy, filthy way his tongue moves against his that sets him off, and Marco’s rough stuttering hips and choked moans that keep him going.

They kiss all the way through it, until finally their breaths even out and Marco pulls away with a goofy grin.   _Waaay_  too goofy.

“Don’t,” Jean warns.

“Fine.” 

_Knew it._

Marco sits back and rolls over to the bedside table, where Jean set up his harness and the dildo.  “Holy shit, did you actually look at this thing?”

“Did more than look.”

Marco’s eyes widen.  “Thought you were waiting for me?” he asks, pulling the harness through his legs and tightening the straps.

“I only used it for a few seconds.  Had to make sure it would fit.”

“Sure,” Marco says, smirking.

He fits the flared base in the slot and gives it a few pulls to test the hold.  He’s casual with it, natural.  He’s not trying to be sexy about it, but Jean can’t look away.  He might be drooling.  He grabs the lube, squirts it in his palm, and works it over the dildo.

Marco gasps.

Jean tries moving his hand a little, back and forth.  Jerking him off.  Marco’s legs actually tremble.

“I- Jean, don’t stop that,” he begs.

_Holy shit._

Jean does not stop.  He works his arm a little faster, ignoring the dull ache in his muscles.  He starts adding a little twist to the head, like he’d seen in porn, and Marco buckles forward, catching himself against Jean’s arms.  Jean has no idea what’s happening, but it’s fucking hot, and Marco’s reactions are anything but performatory.

 “I think- I’m gonna- oh,  _fuck_ -“ he says, incredulously, tremulously.

“Do it,” Jean whispers. 

He watches, enraptured, as Marco trembles and moans all the way to a gorgeous, gasping peak.  He grabs Jean’s hand as he arches back, moving them together over the dildo.

Jean expects him to come down gently.  He doesn’t.  He grins like a starving wolf.

“Holy  _shit_ , baby,” Marco says, still panting.

“You’re fucking incredible.”

 “Gonna fuck you so hard.”

Jean’s chest flutters.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”  Marco starts grinding against his slit.  Jean opens his legs wider and shudders when the massive head works its way in.  “Gonna make you scream.”

“Ple-“

“Shh.”

Marco pushes in farther, inch by impossibly thick inch.  The message is clear.  Jean doesn’t need to beg.

Marco works his hips in and out, past what’s comfortable, until he bottoms out, and Jean is shaking from the intensity.  It’s infinitely more intense than when he’d tried it himself.  He has no control over where it goes, how hard or fast it fucks into him.

Marco grinds deep, deeper than Jean’s ever felt anything, and Jean’s vision blurs.  He feels like he’ll burst.

“Babe,” Marco says quietly.  He takes Jean’s limp hand and drags it over his stomach, and Jean  _feels_  the bulge of his cock inside him.

He comes. 

Marco grinds his hand down gently against the bulge as Jean twitches from the stimulation, his eyes watering and threatening to spill.

“So fucking hot, you still want more?” he whispers.

Jean nods.

“Good.”

He pulls back, and the drag of the cock against Jean’s oversensitive walls already has him moaning.

When he starts to thrust, Jean  _wails_.

Marco knows he’d ask him to stop if he wanted him to.  So he keeps going, fucking his soaking, overstimulated pussy with slow, blindingly  _hard_  thrusts, peppering Jean’s face with kisses and murmuring sweet nothings about how  _good_  he is, how  _sexy_  and  _perfect_ , until Jean seizes down on it and comes again.

“More?”

Jean shudders.  “No.”

“Okay.”

Marco pulls out for what seems like minutes, then pulls off the straps in seconds so he can curl up beside Jean.  He takes his head in his hands and kisses his lips softly, running his hands gently down his body.

“Good?” Marco asks, as if the answer weren’t perfectly clear.

Jean responds with another deep kiss, and he feels Marco smile against his lips.


	3. Candlelight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> words: 1500  
> rating: explicit  
> plot: jeanmarco waxplay, day 4 "candlelight"

Moving in together was going to be awesome, but before that, Jean and Marco had to clean their old apartments. Marco had gone to Jean’s and helped him sort through his impossibly messy closet, scrub his floors, and disinfect all the furniture they’d dirtied through the years. And now, Jean was in his room, going through drawers Marco had forgotten about and helping him pack them into bags.

Marco finds a pack of Hanukah candles from his mom under his bed. He never had the heart (guts) to tell her he was an atheist. He throws them in the trash without a second thought, but Jean fishes them out.

“Don’t- why are you throwing these out?”

“What am I going to do with Hanukah candles, Jean?”

“I mean. They’re-” Uncertainty flits across Jean’s face and he stops.

“What?”

“You wanna try something kinky?”

“Like what?”

“Melting them on me?”

Marco couldn’t have heard that right.

“The candles?”

“What else?”

He heard right.

“You want me to melt candles on you?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh,” Marco says.

“You don’t have to,” Jean says. “It’s just a kink. Like, a fleeting thought when I jerk off-“

“You jerk off to it?”

Jean flushes. “Sometimes, yeah.”

“Hm.” 

Marco gets back to cleaning, keeping the candles by his legs.

He needs to think it over. Jean wants it, obviously. And he wants to make Jean happy, and they’re both sane, consenting adults. But….

“Is it safe?”

“With that kind, yeah,” Jean answers without hesitation. “You’d need buckets of water around, just in case, but it won’t cause scarring or anything.”

He's awfully knowledgeable.

“You’ve done it before?”

“Yeah, with Annie.”

Marco smirks. “TMI, babe.”

They don’t do any dom-sub stuff, but Jean had told him what he used to do. Licking floors, getting whipped, wearing a chastity belt for weeks. Experimenting, he’d called it, at an age where the most experimental thing Marco had done was let his girlfriend tie him to the bedpost with a sock.

It just wasn’t his cup of tea, ordering people around, being ordered. He and Jean tried it a few times before giving it up. At best, it made him laugh; at worst, it freaked him out. Marco used to worry, the first few years they were together, that he wouldn’t be enough for Jean. But it’s been long enough, and they’ve gotten close enough, that Marco knows this isn’t Jean trying to wiggle him into something he’s not comfortable with. It’s just a kink, something they’ll try and see.

“So you wanna do it? With me?”

“I mean, I did just ask you to.”

“Now?”

Jean’s breath hitches.

“Sure. Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Jean gets up and starts pushing some of the bags away from the bed, then pauses.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I know I don’t.”

Jean smiles.

“But you’re gonna have to show me how-“

Jean leans over and kisses him until Marco forgets what he was saying.

“Thank you. I’ll take care of it.”

He clears the floor and dresses the bed in Marco’s rattiest blanket, and tells Marco to get a lighter. When Marco finally finds one, Jean’s already filled up a bucket with water and Marco’s towel.

Jean goes into the bathroom and comes out with lotion. He takes off his shirt and starts rubbing it on himself absently.

“What’s that for?” Marco asks.

“Cleanup.”

“Can I help?”

Jean lays back with a cocky smile, arms crossed behind his head.

“All yours.”

Marco grins and straddles him. He kisses him slowly and squirts some lotion into his hands, warming it up before running them down his sides. Jean groans, his body going lax under him.

“So,” Marco says, pulling away to kiss at Jean’s neck, “I should get it wherever you wanna get burned?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Where do you want me to burn you?” Jean gasps. “Show me, babe.”

Jean rolls over slowly and takes Marco’s hands. And puts them right over his chest.

Holy shit.

“Your nipples, baby?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

Marco already feels Jean’s cock, half-hard, pressing against his ass. He gets some more lotion in his hands and starts rubbing his chest. When his fingers barely graze a nipple, Jean gasps. They’re so sensitive, Marco had made Jean come just by sucking and biting at them. Multiple times. 

Marco squirts the next batch of lotion directly on Jean’s nipple, and Jean’s back arches. He mouths at Marco’s neck messily, cursing in his ear.

Marco kisses him again as he rubs the lotion into his skin, flicking and twisting the slippery nubs and drinking in his groans until the lotion runs tough.

“Where else?” he whispers.

Jean moves Marco’s hand to his lower stomach, all the way to his happy trail, shivering as his fingers drag along the skin.

“All of that?”

“Mmm.”

Marco rubs the lotion in slowly, massaging his muscles more than he probably needs to while he kisses him sweetly until his skin is flushed and soft. When he’s done, he gets off and wipes off his hands on his shirt.

Jean unbuttons his pants. Marco stops what he’s doing. He- he’s not okay with that, that’s a little too far.

“Jean- I don’t-“

“Oh, no, relax. They’re just getting tight. You’ve got magic hands, baby.”

Marco smiles with relief.

“Oh. Okay.”

Marco picks up the candle. A Hanukkah candle, from his mother, that he’s going to drip on his boyfriend so he can get off on the pain. Marco’s glad he doesn’t believe in hell. He lights the wick.

And waits.

“Should we do something while it’s melting?”

“No, not safe.”

“Oh.” Yeah, of course. “So what-“

“Just, hold it-“ Jean positions Marco’s hand a little, tilting the candle toward him, hovering over the apex of his chest.

They wait. Marco wonders how much of the kink is just anticipation, of listening to Jean’s breaths come faster and faster. Then Jean jerks, groans, and his face contorts in pain.

“Are you- did you like that?” Marco asks. He honestly can’t tell.

When Jean opens his eyes, the answer is clear from his blown pupils.

“Yeah, bab-“

He jerks again, bites his lip. And now that Marco knows, he can see the pleasure in his pain-torn face. He watches the small splotch of thin blue sheen on his chest harden into a soft, pale, blue on Jean’s skin, then starts moving the candle towards his nipple. 

Jean looks up at him with wild, hungry eyes. He starts to murmur desperately, more and more with each passing second, the way he does sometimes when he’s about to come.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, please, oh god, no, yes, Marco, baby, oh g-“

He screams. He full-on screams, he grabs a fist of his own hair and his voice tapes into a warbling moan.

Marco swallows.

“That good?” he asks dryly.

“You have no fuckin’ idea.” Another drip lands, and Jean whimpers. “I’m so close, baby, can you do the other one?”

Marco moves the candle to the center of his chest. “No need to rush, is there?”

The wax falls. Jean starts biting his hand.

“Please, baby?”

“Mm. Can you touch yourself for me?”

Jean nods and winces as another drip splashes on his chest. A little closer. He lets go of the sheets to rub himself through his underwear.

“Good, babe. So good,” Marco tells him, and the wax falls again.

Marco watches as he arches back, writhing around, gripping the sheets with white knuckles. His eyes are rolled back and his jaw is lax with pleasure, and Marco doesn’t have to peek at his underwear to know there’s a thick wet patch blooming there.

He dips the candle in the bucket of water, and Jean pulls him on top of him.

“Thank you, baby, that was so good, fuck.”

“Yeah?”

“Where’s the lotion? You’re hard, baby.” Jean reaches around for it until he finds it. “Take your pants off, c’mon, lemme jerk you off.”

Marco can’t get his pants off fast enough, and Jean grabs his hips forward. He wraps a wet hand around Marco’s cock and starts stroking him hard and fast, just the way he likes it, brushing all the right spots and rubbing his balls and whispering filthy things in his ear.

He catches Marco’s come in his hand and lets Marco ride it out, then dips his hand in the water-candle-towel bucket. Marco should probably be more grossed out, but all he really wants to do right now is kiss. Jean’s hand has already dried by the time they pull away for air.

“We still gotta clean,” Jean says absently. He starts picking the bits of dried wax off his skin.

Marco looks at the half-finished pile of packing they’d left behind. “Eventually.”


	4. Ash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> words: 900  
> rating: mature (references to sex)  
> plot: jeanmarco, modern au at a bar flirting first time  
> other: alcohol, smoking, jeanmarco week 5 “ash”

Jean knew Armin would be a lightweight.  He didn’t know he would end up sucking face with Eren in less than a half-hour into his 21 st  inaugural bar party, or that they’d “sneakily” go home together by pretending that Armin “might have left the stove on.” 

“And Eren needs to help you turn it off?”

“More like turn it  _on_ ,” Eren says, grinning like a dick, “you know?  Jean?  Yeah?  Get it?  Fuck off.”

“No offense!” Armin shouts, already being dragged away by Eren, and then they head out the door.

Cool.

Jean doesn’t really do bars.  They’re loud and skeevy.  The last time he came here, he watched a guy shit in a garbage can and wash his ass in the sink, because the line was too long.  That is, a significant number of people were waiting in the bathroom before the guy pulled down his pants and just.  Yeah, Jean has been working on repressing that for months.  He only came here to support Armin, who’d been dying to go to a gay bar for over a year, but too uncomfortable to get a fake.  Jean couldn’t blame him, it never would have worked, not with his face and his nerves. 

So, he’s about to leave.  Right after the bartender comes back with his $9 Long Island (seriously, fuck this place).

Someone sidles up beside him, because he’s alone at a gay bar. 

“Hey, is this seat taken?” the guy asks, just as the bartender finally sets Jean’s drink in front of him. 

Jean quickly debates whether he wants to do this.  He looks at the guy- hot, vaguely familiar in that maybe-I-went-to-high-school-with-you way that tended never to pan out.  Probably one of those cute, shallow darlings, good for a solid one night stand.  Carpe diem.

 He smirks and turns to face the guy.

“No, you want it?”

The guy grins back and settles in, and flags down the bartender for a Jaegerbomb.  Jean takes a big sip of his drink.  It’s okay, definitely not worth $9 but not awful.

“I’m Marco,” the guy says.

“Jean.”

“Do you go here?”

“Junior.”

“Sopho- uh.  Junior.  Me too.”

Jean smirks.  “Nice.”

“Do I know you?” Marco asks.

“Probably,” Jean says, even though that’s more likely just a weirdly-timed line, “I work at the library, at the check-“

And Jean realizes, yes, he does recognize him.  And he regrets opening his mouth, because he’s talking to the guy who used to check out armloads of gay erotica “for a friend” every other Wednesday last year.

It seems to dawn on Marco, too.  His eyes go wide and he freezes, drink halfway to his mouth.

“Out lane,” Jean finishes weakly.

“Oh.”

Jean wonders how many seconds until the guy gives him a lame, polite excuse to leave.

 Instead, he grins and finishes his drink.  “It was a weird time, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jean says.  He’s not sure where this is going anymore.

“Do you smoke?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna…?”

Jean nods and Marco gets up, and they go to the patio.

The mild-mannered pervert bookworm, with the fake ID, who makes moves on strangers at gay bars, smokes reds.  Jean gives up trying to pin him down.

He takes a puff of the cigarette and, unsurprisingly, it’s way too strong.  He barely represses a hacking cough.

“So, uh.  What do you study?” Jean asks, his voice tight and harsh.  Fucking reds, never again.

Marco takes an effortless puff of his cigarette, holds it and exhales slowly.  The smoke drips out of him like raindrops.  He has freckles on his lips.

Jean realizes he’s staring, and he doesn’t even have drunkenness as an excuse, not with half a Long Island ten minutes ago.

“Do you do this a lot?” Marco asks.

“What do you think?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why’s that?”

Marco smirks.  “You’re kind of shitty at it.”

“Seriously?”

Marco grins and takes another puff of his cigarette.  Jean tries to puff his, only to find the cherry’s already burned past the paper.  He bums it against the wall.

“Do  _you_ do this a lot?” Jean asks.

“First time, actually.”

“Bullshit.”

Marco shrugs.

“Tell me, how could I make it better?  Since I’m so shitty,” Jean asks.

“You could come back to my place.”

There is  _no way_  in  _hell_  that this is his first game.  It’s hot as fuck.  Jean grins.  “How far?”

“I’ll show you, come on,” Marco says, and puts out his cigarette.

-

Jean wakes up in an unfamiliar bed with three text messages.  From Mikasa.

>did you really leave ash with marco bodt

>I was going to hook you two up, you know. I mean, good for you, I’m pretty sure you two are perfect for each other, don’t fuck up

>no pressure of course. Im sending this to him too

He locks his phone and sits up.  His boxers are all the way in Marco’s entryway.  Which was awesome.  When he comes back, Marco is sitting up and smiling at his phone.  He doesn’t seem to care that he’s stark naked, cross-legged.

“Mikasa?” Jean asks.

“Yeah.  You know her?”

“We went to high school together.”

Marco sits up, cross-legged, like he doesn’t even care that he’s stark naked.  “I’d ask you even if she didn’t send this, but you wanna do this again?”

“Obviously.”

“Cool.”


	5. Uniform

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> words: 900  
> rating: teen  
> plot: marco finally asks out the cutie he’s been crushing on for like 200 years, because she’s quitting her fast-food job next week  
> other: for jeanmarco week, day 6, uniform. jenna is a trans girl

Marco is not a morning person.  But when his alarm rings at 4:30AM on a Saturday, he only snoozes it once before rolling out of bed with a smile.  He’d been less than thrilled when he’d first seen the schedule, until he saw who was working food prep with him for the five-hour shift.

Jenna.

Jenna is the epitome of a morning person.  While Marco always makes liberal use of the free drinks to down as much bitter, shoddy iced black coffee as it takes to shock his system into competence, he’e never seen Jenna touch it.  She walks into every shift with a contagious, easy smile, cracking jokes and sparking conversations.  She’s like sunshine, he thinks to himself, chalking the cheese up to his lack of sleep. 

Marco puts on his black slacks and purple collared shirt, and bike to Hunny’s in record time.  Jenna’s already there, of course, waiting at the punch station for 5:00.  She gives him a big, crooked grin as soon as she sees him.

“Three days in a row, Marco?”

“Shit, seriously?”  He looks down to check and, yes, he put his shirt on inside out again.

The machine clicks and she punches her card.

“I’ll clock you in, go change.”

“Thank you,  _so much_ ,” Marco says, hands her his card, and bolts to the bathroom.  He flips it around and hurries back to the prep station to wash his hands.

Jenna is the only girl he’s ever seen who looks hot in a hairnet.  Smokin’ in a hairnet.   _I’m so far gone_.

He’s going to ask her out.  He’s decided.  Today, because she’s quitting next week, and he’s not scheduled to work with her, and he’d hate himself forever if he didn’t even try before she left. 

“Do you want to go to dinner sometime?” he asks when they’re clocking out.  Very smooth, no cracking voice or shaky legs to betray his thundering heartbeat.

Jenna looks shocked for a moment, then  _beams_.  “Yeah.  For sure.”

“What’s your number?”

She flashes him a smirk.  “I’ll tell you after dinner.”

_Yes.  Yesssss._

“Cool.”

-

Jenna’s a little late.  It’s only a few minutes, but she’s still on the verge of a freak-out.  She doesn’t  _do_  late.  She walks into the pho place they agreed on at 6:04, looks around for Marco, and rockets closer to freak-out territory.  He’s not here.  He already left.  The only people here are an old white couple and a plaid-clad hipster with way too many piercings. 

Jenna reaaaaally regrets not giving Marco her phone number, why did she try to play it coy?

She goes up to order.  Even if she’s been stood up, she’s not passing up pho.

“Jenna?” she hears Marco ask.  She turns around, and-

“ _Marco?_ ”

Marco stares at her like she’s grown a third eye.  Or, like _she’s_  the one with metal _all over_  her face.  It dawns on her that she’d never seen him without the uniform.

They’re actually kind of cute on him, now that she’s paying attention.  It fits.

She sits down on the other side of the booth.

“I didn’t even recognize you,” she says.

“You either,” he says, and starts to grin.  “You’re in a sorority?” he asks, looking down at her Greek jacket.

“Fuck yeah, I’m in a sorority.” It’s why she had to quit Hunny’s, there just wasn’t enough time in a day to do all the volunteering and partying and studying  _and_ burger flipping that would need to get done.  Even if it meant not seeing her gorgeous, charming coworker anymore.

She was going to find mutual friends of his, and  _happen_  to crash whatever parties he might go to.  It wasn’t creepy, it was  _networking_ , she told herself, because “networking” was easier than working up the nerve to ask for his phone number.

But, he asked her, and now she won’t have to pull any strings.

 “Your hair is awesome,” he says.  And she realizes he’s never seen  _her_  outside of her uniform, never seen her hair out of a ponytail and in all of its undercut glory. 

“Thanks,” she says.  She’s blushing, but doesn’t want to make the fawning  _too_ obvious.  “So, what’s good here?”

They order, and the food comes out in less than ten minutes.  It’s  _amazing-_  the flavors are sharp and mellow in all the right ways, the serving sizes are huge, and the ingredients are crisp and fresh.  She’s definitely leaving a raving 5-star review.

They get into a groove just as easily as they do at work, bantering and gossiping and talking about music and movies.  He lets slip that he’s pan, which just about _floods_  Jenna with relief.

“So you’d date a trans person?” she asks, like it’s casual question.

“Yeah, sure.”  He slurps a bean sprout.

 “Cool. Because I am,” she says, and takes a big gulp of water.  It’s basically set that’s he won’t be shitty about it, but it’s never been easy for her to just  _say_  it.

“Oh, okay,” he says, nodding a little.  She’s watching his posture like a hawk, and it’s nothing but relaxed.  “You wanna, like, talk about it?”

“Rather not.”

“Okay.”  He goes back to his soup.  “Did you see-“ he starts, then stops.  He looks up, his eyes shining and his mouth quirking into a goofy grin.  “Wait.  Did you just call this a date?”

 _Shit_.  “Did I?”

“Yeah, I think you did,” he says, looking like a kid in a candy shop.  A metal-studded man in a pho shop.

“Did you really have any doubts?” she teases.

He somehow manages to look even giddier.

He’s  _adorable._ Jenna’s definitely keeping him.


End file.
